The Impasse
by liv.einziger
Summary: When Jane makes Lisbon lose her job, everything is about to change between them. What will he do when he realizes she might disappear from his life? How will she react? Pure Jisbon.
1. What now?

_**So, this fic was originally a oneshot, but as soon as I had published it, new ideas for it started growing in my brain. So what I did was to divide the initial story into two chapters and now I'm publishing a third chapter, to which I don't know how many might follow. Actually, I have no idea where this fic is going and that's why I count on you, readers, to let me know what you think so far, as well as to give me suggestions on how to continue with it. **_

_**I don't own The Mentalist characters, I just like to pretend that I do.**_

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1. WHAT NOW?

"Don't be silly, Lisbon," Patrick Jane was saying, with a serene voice and that stupid smirk of his, because his neck wasn't the one on the line; he just stood there, like he couldn't care less about what was going to happen to her. "She's only going to tell me I shouldn't be so irresponsible, tell you to control me better… The usual."

Lisbon was so furious that she didn't reply. She just stood, holding her hands together in front of her body, which was completely tense. Jane didn't understand why she was making such a fuss. Hightower wasn't going to fire her; only a moron would fire Teresa Lisbon, a brilliant senior agent who had been top of her class in the San Francisco PD Academy, then had made an impressive career at the local police and then risen as a state agent with the CBI, not taking long to earn a position as head of the Serious Crimes Unit. The elevator doors opened and she walked ahead, hurriedly, not waiting for him, making him rush to keep up. They reached Madeleine Hightower's office.

"You wanted to see us, ma'am," Lisbon said, stopping in front of Hightower's desk, pressing her lips and expecting the worst.

"Yes, I did, Lisbon. Patrick."

Jane nodded his greeting, a flirtatious half-smile on his lips; Lisbon doubted that strategy would work at this point.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Hightower offered,

"Of cour–" Jane started to say, but Lisbon spoke, cutting him sharply.

"I'm fine right here, ma'am," she said, making Jane give up on sitting at all.

"Well," Hightower started. "I believe you know why you're here."

"Yes, ma'am," Lisbon answered, hurriedly, so as to make it faster.

"I'll say it, though, just so we know we're on the same page." She made a pause, probably for effect, Jane observed. Amateur. "So, Patrick, you assaulted the DA assistant, accusing him of murder–"

"I only did so," Jane started to explain, with a finger lifted defensively, "because I had to make everyone believe he was our suspect, so that–"

"I don't care why you felt like you had to do it," Hightower interrupted imperatively, then shifted her glance to Lisbon, "or why you felt like you should let him."

"I had no idea of what he intended to do, ma'am," Lisbon defended herself. "Even though I know I should have."

"She had no idea," Jane repeated, pathetically, Lisbon thought.

"Then she's not doing her job right," Hightower stated, exchanging her look between them. "Now, the DA is urging me to take action immediately."

There was a moment of silence; Lisbon looked down, moving her chin apprehensively. Jane waited, containing an urge to yawn.

"Patrick, you're suspended for a week without pay, effective immediately."

Jane was surprised; he had thought Lisbon would be the one suspended, if anybody _would_ get suspended, because Hightower would often blame her on _his_ behavior, but he thought it was fair enough that she was punishing the right person this time.

"Lisbon, I would like you to immediately check your badge and your weapon, because, as of this day, you are no longer a member of the CBI."

Jane's mouth fell open. Lisbon felt like someone had just stuck a dagger against her chest; the air escaped her lungs.

"Ma'am…" she started, but Hightower shushed her with a movement of her hands.

"There is nothing you can say, Lisbon. It's done."

Lisbon would have argued, but her chin started to tremble and a tear was threatening to roll down, and she would _never_ cry in front of her boss as she fired her just as well as there was _no way in hell_ she was going to cry in front of the stupid consultant who had just got her fired, so she turned around and hurriedly left the room.

"Lisbon," Jane called out after her, and started to follow, not worried whether Hightower was finished with him or not. "Lisbon, wait," he said, as she was practically running now.

Unwilling to wait for the elevator, she just rushed to the stairs.

"Lisbon," Jane called one more time, then he stopped walking, not knowing what to do. Fired? Was Hightower out of her mind? He considered turning around and going back to her office, to try and talk some sense into her, but he figured right now wasn't the best time to do so.

He knew he had to do something, because the idea of CBI without Lisbon was just something he could not conceive in his mind. Still, he figured right now he should just give both women some time; anything he tried now would be useless. The elevator arrived, and he contemplated the idea of facing the team once they had heard the news – had they heard by now? He got into the elevator and pushed the button. When he arrived at the bullpen's floor, his idea was to go straight to the attic, but before taking the stairs, he did not resist going into Lisbon's office. He noticed how she hadn't even turned off her computer or bothered to put away the forms she had been filling out before Hightower called her.

She had only taken her jacket and her keys and left, leaving everything exactly the way it was. He wondered if she had done so because she expected Hightower to reconsider or because she just needed to get the hell out of the building so she could break down alone. Definitely option number two. He took a long look at her things, including the new couch he had bought for her, much to his own satisfaction, he must admit, because he was the one who actually used the piece of furniture: he enjoyed coming in here, lying on her couch and watching her work, while they would share a conversation or just silence. It was easy to be around her most of the time, and he realized, thinking about it, how it had become natural for him to take it for granted she would always be in his life, how he would always know where he could find her, how he could always come into her office and walk towards the couch like he owned it, like he was allowed. And he was.

"Jane?" It was Cho's voice. He was standing behind Jane, who hadn't even heard him coming in. "What happened in Hightower's office? Lisbon just came out of the elevator, came in here, took her stuff and left, didn't say a word. She looked upset."

Jane just stared blankly at him, not finding any words to say.

"Excuse me, Cho," he said, uncomfortably trying to walk past his colleague. "I need to… I need to go."

As he walked towards the stairs, he noticed Van Pelt and Rigsby looking at him, probably expecting the answer as well, an answer he didn't feel ready to provide, so he just walked past them and climbed the stairs on his way to the attic, where he gathered the things he would need most and then left the building, heading to some motel where he'd lie in bed and think about a solution for all this.

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Lisbon was driving slower than usual, because tears were blurring her vision. She just couldn't avoid them; she didn't even want to. She would only avoid crying in front of other people, but when she was alone, she would just prefer to cry it all away, especially when she was angry, and she was very angry at that moment. She wanted to break something, to stab something, to shoot something. And yet, she drove slower than usual, because she didn't want to die in a car crash.

She thought about how she had always known this would happen one day; since the beginning, she had imagined the day when Jane would finally get her to lose her job, and she had been willing to continue working with him despite everyone else's advice – Virgil Minelli's, especially, because he closed cases, and because… Well, she couldn't really reach what that second reason was, but she figured it was probably because she felt bad for his personal tragedy, and because she knew that working with the CBI and chasing Red John was all he had left. All he _believed_ he had left, anyway.

And there she was, feeling like an idiot, for having kept him around because she cared about him, while he had bet her whole career over stupid stunts countless times. The bastard. She had always known he would lose one of those bets one day, she just hadn't figured it would hurt so much, but it did, because it made her realize how much he did _not_ care about her. A fresh set of tears had started making their way out, making it much harder to keep on driving, and she couldn't be home soon enough.

When she was finally in the safe confinement of her apartment, she ripped her working clothes off and took a cold shower, while crying and punching the wall in anger. After about twenty minutes doing that, she finally managed to start calming down. She got dressed and went to bed, where she sat in the dark for a long time, not crying now but feeling her face swollen from the tears she had cried before.

She tried to imagine herself looking for another job, well, that dismissal from CBI would probably look terrible in her record. Would she even get another job in law enforcement? If she did, it would certainly not be as a senior agent, head of a unit. And she had worked so hard to get there… Thinking about it now, it had been really stupid to bet her career over Jane. Maybe she hadn't _really_ expected him to get her fired someday. But here she was, after having been _fired_ from her job.

There was no way she could imagine herself without that job; thinking about it, it was her life. Her family, her routine. Next morning, when she woke up, what was she supposed to do with herself? Oh damn it, she was crying again.

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Jane woke up really early, and he hadn't actually managed very many hours of sleep. Sleeping was something already difficult for him most of the time, and the unusual bed plus the whole mess he had gotten himself and Lisbon into didn't help at all. He sat up, trying to figure out a brilliant plan to make Hightower beg Lisbon to come back. And possibly resign from her own position – that would be good. Nothing came to mind, not even something stupid. He could usually think of the most genius plans for solving crimes and making criminals confess to murder, why couldn't he find a way to make Hightower change her mind about Lisbon's job? And it wasn't even something ridiculous or outrageous; Lisbon was probably the best agent working in that building, deciding to fire her had been the real ridiculous decision.

Something that also disturbed his thinking process was that he felt the urgent need of letting Lisbon know how sorry he was and how committed he was into the idea of finding a way to bring her back. He decided to try to call her, but, as he had expected, she didn't answer. He tried to call her during that whole day, unsuccessfully. Then he tried again the next day, and the next. He wanted to go see her, but he knew she wouldn't let him in; she wasn't even answering her phone.

The next day, he came up with an idea to get her job back: he would tell Hightower he would quit his job if she didn't hire Lisbon back. That was going to work; she found him way too valuable an asset to risk losing him just because she wanted to punish Lisbon – who wasn't even the one to blame. And besides, strangely, he couldn't imagine himself still working with the CBI if Lisbon wasn't there anymore. Which was stupid, since the reason he worked there was so that he could be on the Red John case. Would he really quit in the remote possibility of Hightower not accepting his conditions? He didn't know the answer to that question.

On the day he was supposed to go back to work, he went straight to the floor where Hightower's office was, but she wasn't there. He went down into the bullpen to ask the team where she was, and found angry faces, especially Van Pelt, who wouldn't even look at him. Cho kept shaking his head, and Rigsby was the only one who answered his question, saying the boss was traveling. How convenient! When he looked in the direction of Lisbon's office, though, everything else escaped his mind. There was movement in there. He turned to Rigsby again.

"Who's that?"

Rigsby didn't answer; he only looked at him with a sad expression.

"New boss," said Cho, hitting Jane's arm with his own as he passed him by.

Jane couldn't believe it. A substitute for Lisbon? Already? He started walking fast towards _her_ office. He was shocked to find that her name had already been taken off the door, which had nothing written on it now. The man inside the office was laying out belongings on the desk, while Jane noticed Lisbon's stuff inside a box in a corner. That was so wrong. The man turned to face him, smiling.

"Patrick Jane, I presume?"

He didn't answer. The man approached him, offering his hand. "I'm Agent Howard Lindell."

Jane reluctantly shook the man's hand.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

Lindell seemed surprised. "I'm moving in."

Jane looked around and then shook his head. "No, you're not."

He just turned around and left. He couldn't let that happen. He tried to call Lisbon once again, and she didn't answer again. Well, he _had _to talk to her.


	2. Confessions

_**This chapter was also originally part of the fic as a oneshot. **_

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2. CONFESSIONS

On the second day, Lisbon's cell phone had rung, and, for the first time, it wasn't Jane. It was Cho. He had wanted to know how she was doing, now that he and the rest of the team had already heard the news. She lied, saying she was fine and willing to find another job as soon as possible. The truth was she had been wearing her pajamas for two days straight and had no intention of leaving the apartment, even if the fire alarm would go off. A few hours later, a second call that wasn't from Jane and which she also picked up; it had turned out to be the chief of the San Francisco Police Department, who had heard – from Cho, she had no doubt – that she was out of her job in the CBI. She had been their best inspector and they wanted her back in San Francisco.

Just thinking about actually giving up on the CBI made her want to cry, but she said she would take a few days to think about it, and thanked the chief profusely for offering her the opportunity. After hanging up, she started crying, because she didn't want a job, any job. She didn't want to get out of the apartment, get out of Sacramento. She didn't want everything in her life to change. As the days passed, though, she started to grow used to the idea. If her career with the CBI was really over, and _it was_, what better an option did she have? She should be glad anybody still wanted her, and she ended up welcoming the idea of going back to San Francisco. She called the chief of police and told him she would take the job.

On the next day, Jane still kept calling her, and she considered throwing her cell phone away. Not very long later, there was a knock on her door. She checked who it was, and, of course, it was him. It was weird, but the sight of him made her feel such anger that she decided to open the door and give him a piece of her mind. As soon as she had opened it, she regretted it. How could she have had such a stupid idea? Arguing with him was never effective; he always found a way to win. Deceiving people with his and their own words was his craft.

"Lisbon… I need to talk to you," he said.

He was impressed by her; she was in her pajamas, with no make up, and her hair looked messy. Still, after a week without seeing her, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was afraid of that thought.

"We have nothing to talk about," she said, simply, pushing the door closed. She couldn't look at him.

"Please, wait," he said, putting both hands against the door to keep it from moving. "Let me in, I need to talk to you."

"Whatever you need to say, I don't need to hear it."

"You do, believe me."

"Oh, believe you?" She hated him so much right now that she thought that if she were wearing a gun in a holster tied to her hip, she would probably pull it on him. "When has _that_ done me any good?"

She had given up pushing the door to put all her effort into that remark, which he saw as an opportunity of getting into the apartment. He closed the door behind him.

"You've got to come back," he said, surprised at the urgency in his own voice.

"Really?" she retorted, folding her arms. "Like I can just decide to come back? Because I left the job, didn't I? I didn't get _fired!_"

Lisbon had screamed the last word. Jane nodded, like he knew he deserved it; it only got her more furious.

"I met our new boss today," he said, in a tone of plea, "he's horrible!"

She laughed, out loud. "Is he? Why? He's not as much of an idiot as I am?"

"You're not an idiot."

"You only say that because you want something from me. But it's what you think; you think I'm an idiot, that you can lie to me through your teeth, do what you want and I won't even notice, or even do anything about it, and you know what? You're right! I'm an idiot! I let you do it all, I let you make a fool of me, I let you risk all _I _had and where has it gotten me?"

She was screaming again. He was trying to calm her down by posing both hands in front of him. It wasn't working so well.

"Lisbon, I never though you were an idiot, or intended to treat you like one."

"How's that? It's all you ever did! And you know what the worst part is? I let you make a fool of me because I cared about you. Because I felt sorry for what happened to you."

"Lisbon…" Guilt was washing over him.

"And now I know for sure what I've always suspected; you never cared about me! Or the team! Maybe sometimes you pretended like you did, all part of your act!"

"You're wrong," he replied in a low voice.

"No, I'm not," she snarled. "But I've got news for you. Great news!"

Jane just waited for her to continue. She bit her lip and removed her hair from her face.

"You're stuck with your new, horrible boss," she announced. "I've got a new job waiting for me."

He suddenly stopped moving. "You can't be serious," he pleaded.

"I _am_ serious. It may seem to you like I'm very incapable and incompetent, but I'm actually _very_ good at what I do. So as soon as the folks from San Francisco PD heard I was out of the CBI, they gave me a call; they want me back."

Jane wanted to tell her that he knew how good she was. That he knew how much of a jerk he had always been. That he _needed_ her back. But he couldn't find the words.

"And I don't care," she went on, "if I'll earn less, or if I won't be head of a unit anymore, or if I'll have to move, to leave Sacramento. You know why? Because I'm finally rid of you!"

She hadn't intended to, but she screamed the last part. And an angry tear rolled down as she did, which she hurried to wipe off her face, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he did. Of course he did.

"You don't mean that," he accused.

"Yes, I do."

"You don't, you wish you did but you don't."

He approached her. She took a few steps back.

"Go away, Jane. The only thing that forced us to see each other every day is over."

"I want you back," he said with an intensity that surprised her. Seemed to surprise him, too. "We _all_ need you there," he reiterated.

"I'm sorry for the rest of the team, but you… how dare you treat this as a matter of what _you_ want?"

"I can get your job back."

"Oh can you, smarty-pants?"

"Yes, I can."

"I'm not going to ask how. I'm done enabling you. Screw you!"

He was still approaching her and she had stopped taking steps back, because she had reached the wall.

"I'm going to tell Hightower I'll quit if she doesn't hire you back."

Lisbon nodded. "You do that. It's a shame I won't be there to see you fall on your face."

"She'll do it," he guaranteed.

"Even if she does, the moment she calls me, I'm going to blow her off. I don't want the job anymore, I just told you!"

"You're a liar," he took another step. "And a bad one."

"I'm not lying. I'm relieved!"

He outstretched his arms towards her and leaned his hands on the wall, over her head. His face was only inches from hers right now.

"Say that again. Try harder now."

"Son of a bitch!" she snarled, her hands on his chest, pushing him, hitting him, trying to get away.

Jane took a hold of her hands and set them apart against the wall, holding the rest of her body with his own, making it difficult for her to struggle.

"Jane, let me go!"

"As soon as you stop trying to hurt me."

"Let me go, you bastard!"

"Lisbon, I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry about all I ever did, if it ever hurt you. I never meant to hurt you."

She seemed to stop struggling for a while, looking deep into his eyes. Then, she started again.

"I don't believe you. It's insulting that you'd think I would!"

"I'm not lying," he raised his voice. "I'm really sorry, and I'm trying to make things right."

"Oh right. You're going to threaten Hightower, tell her you'll quit. What makes you think she'll do what you want? What if she says you can go?"

Jane smiled. "She's not _that_ stupid. I bet she regrets firing you already. She only needs a good excuse to beg for you to come back."

"Yeah right. Still I'm not coming back. I'm done with it all."

"Stop lying!" he shouted.

"Let me go!" she shouted back, now struggling really hard to escape his grasp.

Jane was suddenly furious; he wanted to make her listen, make her understand. How could she be so damn stubborn? He needed her back. He wouldn't leave without her. He pinned her harder against the wall, and she contained a sound as it actually hurt a little. She could feel his breath against her face, and there was something in his eyes that she had never seen. It wasn't anger, or sadness; she didn't know what it was. And neither did Jane. All he knew and all he was able to admit to himself right now was that he needed her, and he needed to convince her of that. So, as his eyes shifted from her big green eyes to her parted lips, he just closed the distance between them and kissed her.

He kissed her because he had to make her stop, and understand. He kissed her because she was so difficult, so stubborn. Because she wouldn't let her guard down. He kissed her because he hadn't seen her in over a week and he had thought about her every single day. Because he had missed lying on her couch and watching her work, driving to crime scenes with her, bantering and fighting with her, hearing her voice saying his name between clenched teeth. He kissed her because he finally had her in his arms and he didn't accept the possibility that she might go to San Francisco and leave him here.

It took a second for Lisbon to understand what was going on, because she would never have imagined that Jane would ever pin her against a wall and kiss her during a fight. But he _was_ kissing her; his lips moved forcefully against hers, while his arms still held hers against the wall, and she found herself moving her lips in return, kissing him back, sucking his lower lip, allowing him entrance in her mouth, matching the movement of her tongue with his in a slow and synchronized dance as she heard and felt him gasp for air, and she freed one of her hands so she could cup his face and stroke his jaw line, because she knew she couldn't hate him, and that the harder she tried to, the less she _did_.

Jane released Lisbon's other hand and involved her with both of his, holding her tight against him by her waist with one hand and cupping the back of her head, among her hair, with the other. She threw both arms around his neck and ran a hand through his curls, and a moan escaped between her lips as he squeezed her tighter between him and the wall. She tried to pull him even closer, making him groan into her mouth, then he struggled and pulled away, still holding her tight and resting his forehead against hers.

"Why are you like this?" he asked, breathless. "Why won't you listen, why are you so stubborn?"

"Me?" she protested, breathing heavily. "I got _fired_ because you were stubborn and wouldn't listen to me."

"I'm sorry. I really am. For everything."

She put a hand on his chest and pushed him, she wanted to look in his eyes. He didn't let go of her, but faced her.

"I had to be a jerk to you."

She chuckled drily. "Oh really? You _had_ to?"

"Yeah, I had to," he nodded. "It was the only way I could keep… a distance…"

Jane was suddenly aware that he had said too much. And _done_ too much. He loosened his grip on Lisbon and slowly let her go. She seemed reluctant to break the contact, but she did eventually, certainly not wanting to be the one to hold on to him. He looked confused now, and so was she.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asked. "And what did _this_ mean?"

He looked at her, with pain and frustration in his eyes, as if pleading for her not to ask that question. But she wasn't letting it go, not now.

"Jane? What are you saying?"

"Lisbon…"

"Are you saying you had to be a jerk to me for all these years because you _love_ me?"

Jane didn't answer. He just kept looking at her with that same expression in his eyes, unable to bring himself to deny. Why couldn't he deny? He was furious with himself.

"Would surely suit you, something like that," she said, glaring at him. "Only you could ever believe that kind of logic."

"Believe me," he spoke, finally, a sad smile on his face. "This has nothing to do with logic."

"Jane? What exactly do you want from me?"

He smiled. "I want you to come back to the CBI, to you job."

_To me_. He watched her look down, her hands turned into fists. Then she looked up again. How could he be so selfish? He looked like a child; he wanted something, so he had to have it, no matter what. What about what _she_ wanted? She had convinced herself that the best would be to move on, accept the job in San Francisco and leave it all behind. Who was he to come here and try to change her mind?

"Not going to happen," she said. "You'd better go. Get the hell out of here, I don't want to see you again. And I don't want _my job_ back."

Jane shook his head.

"Go, Jane," she raised her voice again. "Get out!"

She had approached him again and was now trying to push him towards the door. He held her by her arms, stopping her. He couldn't leave. Not without a positive answer. He didn't know how he could live if she didn't say she would come back.

"I'm not leaving," he said. "I won't go, because none of that is what you really want."

"Who are you to say that? How can you know what I want?"

"I can see you trying to lie to yourself. You can almost believe your own lies. I can't."

"Well, that's none of your business anymore, if it ever was. You'll never see me again."

Did she know how powerful a threat that was? Could she see the despair in his eyes as he contemplated the possibility of her vanishing from his life forever? He was shaking his head.

"I _do_ love you," he said, running out of arguments. "I need you."

Hearing that had a stronger effect on her than she could ever have anticipated. She tried to release her hands again.

"And you love me back," he stated, accusatively.

"Oh really?" she smiled. "You're such a jackass."

"Deny it," he challenged, now smiling himself. "I'll catch you in the lie, as always."

Something softened in her expression, and Jane felt her body relax. He released her arms. She turned around, looking confused, and walked a few steps away from him, her hands through her hair.

"This is all so childish," she said. "Where can we possibly go from here?" She faced him again. "So you say you love me. What are you going to do about it?"

He just stared at her; he had no answer. He had never even admitted to himself that he loved her before this. He hadn't made any plans. She nodded.

"You see? The best thing I can do is leave now. Before…"

She never finished that sentence. They stared at each other in silence for a long time. He considered letting her leave. She deserved so much better than him anyway. She was right; he was being selfish. But then… how could he let her go?

"Don't leave," he asked, in a small voice, shaking his head. "I want to do something about it."

The expression of sadness and frustration on his face was heart-shattering. Lisbon felt the tears forming inside her eyes.

"What?" she asked, her chin trembling.

Jane smiled widely through the sadness. "Let me start by getting your job back."

She couldn't contain the involuntary smile that came to her, but tried to hide it by looking down. Unsuccessfully, of course. He approached her, and took her in his arms in an affectionate hug. She clutched to the front of his suit jacket. She hated him so much for making her love him. For showing her she couldn't bring herself to leave him. For forcing her out of her hiding place, where she kept herself safe from ever being hurt by someone she cared about again. She hated him.

"You son of a bitch."

He chuckled, relieved by her surrender of sorts, but scared as hell of the future. What was he supposed to do now? He took a glance at his wedding ring, and contemplated all it represented. The guilt he felt, the sadness, the loneliness, his need, his addiction to finding and killing Red John, to avenging his family. Admitting his feelings for Lisbon now went against all of that, and it also meant dragging her into that whole mess. But he knew that, after what had just happened, he couldn't go back to before, just as much as he couldn't watch her leave. He couldn't be with her, but he definitely could not be without her. He also knew that she had her own share of pain and unresolved issues that she would have to deal with before she could be with him. So, in the end, he guessed they might be able to find a solution to this impasse. And as he held her tight in his arms, he sincerely hoped so.


	3. Issues

_**This is the new chapter, with some of the new ideas that occurred to me after I had published the story as a oneshot.**__** This is a chapter about the difficulties ahead for Jane and Lisbon as they contemplate the possibility of starting a relationship… I count on you to let me know what you think, please!**_

_**I still don't own anything. **_

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3. ISSUES

It had been natural, after what had happened, for Jane not to leave the apartment. How could he say what he had said and just leave? At a certain point, they moved to the couch, where they sat silently at first, then making some small talk. The truth was that neither knew what to do next. So he had confessed to her – and to himself as well – that he loved her, and she had accepted to let him try and get her job back, as some sort of unspoken response to his declaration of love. However, they were two broken people, who couldn't just naturally start a relationship only because they had admitted having feelings for each other. They had to go step by step, very slowly and carefully. The problem was that neither of them was sure which these steps were.

Jane had decided not to show up at work until Hightower was back, but, as it turned out, not a half hour later, he received a call from Bertram, asking him if he intended to be dismissed of his position in the CBI by refusing to go back to work after just having been suspended. He politely replied that he intended to express his extreme discontentment with Lisbon's dismissal to Hightower, along with his intention to only return to work when Lisbon had been accepted back and was on duty. Bertram answered that his desire was never to have Lisbon fired; he liked her and would rather lose Jane than her. Jane then complimented him on having good judgment; the director then replied saying he would contact Hightower and communicate her that he had canceled her decision to dismiss Lisbon and that, as of the next day, he wanted her and Jane at the CBI HQs first thing in the morning. Euphoric, Jane politely said goodbye and hung up.

"I never thought I would be able to solve this over the phone!" he announced to Lisbon, who was still curled up on her couch.

"Are you serious?"

"He says he wants us at CBI tomorrow morning."

She smiled, and it was the most amazing smile he had ever seen.

"You are… impossible," she said, looking away from him, still with that smile.

"He agreed with me that Hightower's decision had been ridiculous."

She looked up at him again, alarmed.

"Not in these words exactly," he clarified, cocking his head to the side, then walking towards her and sitting next to her on the couch again. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking it's really strange that I've been convincing myself for the last few days that I no longer had my job at the CBI, that I was going back to a job I've had before… And then suddenly you show up and turn it all around."

"Is it good or bad?" he asked, and she enjoyed noticing how he seemed a bit insecure while asking that question.

"I don't know yet," was her enigmatic answer.

It was suddenly weird to imagine that, about forty minutes before that, they had been in each other's arms. She sat with her arms folded around her body, all defenses and barriers up. Jane thought that maybe she protected herself from getting close to other people even more than he did. He found himself anxious to hear all the reasons for that; everything that had happened in her life to shape her the way she was now. But he knew he had to tread carefully, for the sake of both of them.

He suggested they ordered some takeout food, guessing she wouldn't have anything inside her fridge that could become lunch. She agreed and they settled for Chinese. Jane teased her about not having any food at home and about not cooking.

"If you had to subsist on your own cooking…" he was saying, while laughing, but stopped as he noticed her smile fading and her expression darkening.

"You're wrong about that," she said, not looking at him. "I've already cooked so much that that's probably why I don't feel like cooking anymore, now that I don't have to."

How could he have been so stupid? She had raised her brothers. Of course she could cook.

"I'm sorry," he said, suddenly embarrassed.

"Don't worry," she retorted, forcing a smile. "I didn't mean it for you to feel sorry."

He watched her intently as she looked away, with a sad expression, looking like she was trying to gather her thoughts into a sentence.

"You know, I miss them…" she finally spoke. "When I was younger, I couldn't wait for them to grow up so I could take care of myself, pursue what I wanted for my own life. And I'm glad they have grown up and have their own lives." She nodded, pressing her lips together, still looking away. When she spoke again, tears were forming in her eyes. "And if they don't need me, it means they're fine, but I miss them, like there are parts of me missing."

Jane could relate; it was exactly the way he felt about his daughter, like a part of him had been removed, never to be returned. He moved closer to her and took her hand in his, knowing there was more. She went on.

"Before they left me, all I wanted was to be alone… But now it doesn't feel right. When Mom died, and I had to look after them, it was like they became my own children. That's how I still see them, but they've never seen me as a mother. So I know I have to let them be… and only let them come to me when they need to."

She looked at him now, with tears rolling down her face. She had never told _anybody_ about that. But he _had_ just told her he loved her, so she figured she could tell him. And he was holding her hand so affectionately as he listened, his eyes sympathizing with her pain, in the realization that they were both parents without children to parent. He was nodding, like he understood what it felt like, and then he pulled her into his chest, involving her in his arms and kissing her forehead before tucking it under his chin. She was glad she could tell him that. Maybe she could share more of her pain with him, and maybe he would share his pain with her, too.

The door bell rang, making them jump in place. Jane softly let go of her and stood up, clearing his throat, to get the door, figuring it would be the food they had ordered. Lisbon stood up as well, wiping her tears with the back of her hand and walking to the kitchen where she took plates and set them on the counter, sitting down to wait for Jane. He joined her a moment later, sitting next to her and serving food for both of them. When he had finished doing that, they both started eating, silently. After a while, Jane continued the conversation.

"After you become a parent, there's no way to… _un-become_."

Lisbon looked up at him. It couldn't be easy; she saw her brothers as though they were hers, but they weren't. And yet, she couldn't imagine what it would feel like if something happened to one of them. She couldn't imagine what Jane's pain felt like. He didn't say anything else, but his mind wandered off to the years he had spent with his daughter, to every little moment beside her, to every smart or sweet word, to every discovery she had made, to every question she had ever asked him. Lisbon watched as he ate in silence, sadness all over his face.

After lunch, they went back to sitting next to each other on the couch.

"What about relationships?" Jane asked, as though they were covering topics.

Lisbon scoffed. "I told you, all I wanted was some time alone, to myself. Besides, until my brothers grew up and left home, I couldn't bring anybody home… they didn't like it."

"Which means…" Jane wanted to know.

"That my relationships were always short and shallow," she completed, with no hesitation. "Because of how I lost my mother and my father, I was afraid of getting too attached to someone. On the other hand, I always thought that I would find someone, who would be… _the one_. You know, that kind of thing young girls believe in."

"And did you stop believing that?"

"Oh yeah, long ago. I figured relationships didn't really suit me, that I was better off alone. You know, I like having my own space, deciding things for myself, making plans for my own future. I figured my personality was a solitary type, one that doesn't do very well on relationships."

"And you don't let people get close to you, get to know you," Jane added.

She looked at him, curious, waiting for the rest of the analysis.

"You wear your CBI senior agent persona all the time, and don't let anyone see what's inside."

"But you can see," she replied, not meaning it as a question.

"Yes, I can."

"You do the same thing." she said. "You hide behind your smart-ass façade all the time, and don't let people see what's in your heart."

"That's true," he confirmed. "I've always done that. You see, what I'm good at is picking up on the details that people let out, those that tell you exactly what they think or how they feel. So that makes me an expert on how to hide what _I_ think."

"I suppose so," she commented, looking ahead of her and away from him.

"And for a long time I've been hiding it even from myself."

That statement made her look at him again.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I blame myself for what happened to my family. And that, because I do, it's like I don't think I have a right to feel anything anymore."

There was a moment of silence, as they just stared at each other. Then Jane went on.

"My feelings for you, for example. I didn't think, and I'm quite sure I _don't_ think, still, that I have a right to feel the way I do about you. And that's why I've been hiding and containing it, not admitting it even to myself. Until the possibility of losing you made me see it, and express it."

Lisbon was a little surprised, and undoubtedly embarrassed; it was the first time they referred to earlier.

"It's not easy for me," he said, "and I know it's not easy for you either. But you chose to stay, and not go back to San Francisco. Is that only because of your job?"

She swallowed, realizing he wanted an answer, he wanted her to say whether she corresponded his feelings or not. And what was she going to say? She wasn't used to talking about her feelings like that, and besides, a few hours ago she had hated him so much she could have shot him. So she stood up and started walking around.

"Don't do that," she said. "Don't pressure me into saying something."

Jane sighed. Of course, he wanted her to say how she felt about him, like he had, but he had to remember to take it slow.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This is kind of new to me."

She looked at him.

"How so?"

"Well, I can see why you find it weird, because of my looks and all," he started, playful, "but the truth is that I haven't had that many women. I met my wife when we were still teenagers, and after I met her, I didn't have anyone else."

Yes, Lisbon was surprised, but it made sense. Judging by the way he talked about his wife, when he did, she could have never imagined him betraying her.

"And we were teenagers, so it was easy; we were in love, and that was all that mattered. There was nothing complicated about it."

He was looking away, certainly remembering her. Lisbon couldn't help but feel jealous. She was the love of his life; Lisbon was, at best, a consolation prize. And she couldn't be just that. She could barely imagine being somebody's number one. Even if she loved him, and she wasn't going to think about that now, she couldn't settle for what was left of him after his wife's death. Between them, _everything_ was complicated.

She was suddenly tired of trying to do this.

"Jane… can I ask you something?"

He looked at her, and just by looking at her face, he already had an idea of what it was.

"Sure," he said.

"Can we go back to before? Before all this? So you got me my job back, we're good… Let's go back to before."

She was avoiding his eyes.

"That's what you do, isn't it?" he accused, standing up and walking towards her. "Whenever someone gets a little closer to you, you shut them out."

Lisbon bit her lip, looking at him with pleading eyes.

"No," he answered, at last. "We can't go back to before."

He turned around and showed himself out, leaving her alone to think. How could she be so selfish? He had just poured his soul out to her, told her how hard admitting his feelings for her was, and she suddenly wanted him to just ignore it? Just go back to pretending he didn't feel anything? Well, he knew he couldn't, because now he _had_ acknowledged how he felt. There was no turning back.


	4. Return

_**Ah, writing these two. Shipping these two. **__**That's so masochistic of all of us! There's just so much drama. And I must confess I love it. **_

_**Maybe you guys won't like what Jane does in this chapter, as Lisbon surely doesn't. What will she do about it?**_

_**I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!**_

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4. RETURN

After Jane left her apartment, Lisbon felt empty. She was sorry she hadn't given him what he wanted, but she hadn't been prepared to do so. But then, what the hell? Did he think he could just walk into her apartment, kiss her and tell her he loved her and she would just throw herself into his arms and that would be it? It wasn't that easy for her. He was right; whenever someone got too close to her, she would push them away. She really wished they could go back to before and pretend that kiss had never happened, pretend that Jane hadn't said those words to her. She had wished they could, because she couldn't see a future in anything between them.

First of all, he would only consider having a relationship with her because he had lost his wife, who was the love of his life. Second, they fought all the time, they didn't agree about most things, and he irritated her to death when he wanted to. Third, they worked together, and relationships between co-workers could get messy. And then, there was another basic problem; she didn't want a relationship, she had given up on relationships long before that. What she had told Jane was true; the ones she had experienced before had been short and shallow, and she knew she was to blame, because she wouldn't let anybody too close, she wouldn't truly show herself to anyone. It was too difficult for her to do that. With all the pain she had already been through in her life, to risk getting hurt in a relationship was something she was too afraid of.

Before Jane had showed up in her apartment telling her he loved her and needed her, she had never thought about him in that way – or rather, _let_ herself think about him in that way. She knew she was attracted to him, as well as she knew she cared about him a lot more than she should, but she had never asked herself what her feelings for him really were. Now, that he had been there and said those things, and done those things, she could only think about that kiss against the wall, and how much she had wanted that kiss to last forever, and how astonishingly surprising that feeling had been. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the touch of his lips against hers, the taste of his tongue, how safe she had felt in his arms and how she had acknowledged then that she might be in love with him. But she didn't want to remember any of that.

The next day, she would have to go back to work and he would be there, and she wished she could – and he would let her – act like nothing had happened. It was the best for both of them. It would be way too complicated to try and have something with him, even if she did love him – and she still couldn't let herself think about whether she really did or not. If she came to the conclusion that she did, and if she would openly admit that to herself, it would only make things much harder than they already were.

Still, she couldn't avoid that feeling of emptiness and of loneliness that took over her as soon as he had left. She took a long look at one of the many pictures of her brothers that she kept around the apartment, and she felt her heart aching with how much she missed them. A tear rolled down her face, and she gave up trying to contain her own sobs. She was alone, after all. It was okay to just cry it all out.

* * *

Jane was furious as he drove away from Lisbon's apartment, and he couldn't decide whom he was most furious at, himself or her. Himself because he had acted without thinking first, which was something he never did. On the contrary, he would always plan all his steps so carefully, especially because his main objective was to get to Red John and have his revenge, and everything else he did had that purpose behind it. When he had acted on impulse and kissed Lisbon, and told her that he loved her, he had ignored that purpose. To get to Red John, he had to hide his feelings from everyone around him, no exception. And his feelings for her, particularly, hadn't even been acknowledged by himself when he had decided to tell her about them, exactly because he had always avoided admitting he had them. Because he blamed himself for what had happened to his family, he didn't think he deserved to ever consider building a new life with someone else. Another reason why he didn't think about that possibility was because he didn't know what was going to happen to him once he had succeeded on his revenge; he might die in the process, or be arrested and spend the rest of his life in jail, or even be sentenced to death.

So it had been really stupid of him to admit to himself and to Lisbon that he had feelings for her, and it had only left him with two options; he could either pretend that nothing had happened, and suffer alone, knowing now that he loved her and having to see her everyday, knowing he couldn't have her, or he could embrace those feelings, face the guilt he would feel for doing so, and try to convince her to do the same, which was still a dangerous option because, even if things worked out between them and they stayed together, the future was still uncertain; he would still want his revenge, and he would still try to have it, which might cause him to die or be arrested, inevitably breaking her heart and his own once again.

So he was horribly, insanely, extremely furious at himself. But he was also furious at Lisbon, because, after all, he had tried to share his feelings with her, including his feelings _for _her, and she hadn't tried as hard to do the same. He could understand why it might be so difficult for her, but her trying to ask him to go back to before had been such a coward thing that he couldn't help but be mad at her. Why would she insist in being lonely, if life had already forced her to go through so much pain in the past? Why would she insist in going through everything alone, and suffering alone, not letting anyone get close to her, try and help her through the problems? Her brothers had surely found a way to go on with their lives, in spite of the tragedy they had been through. Why couldn't she?

Jane arrived at the hotel where he was staying, but before he could park his car, he realized he wanted a drink, he _needed_ a drink, so he just left again and stopped at the first bar he could find. As the alcohol started to have its effect on him, his thoughts went back to the moment where he had pinned Lisbon against the wall, blocking her movements by pressing his body against hers, which ultimately had made it impossible for him to resist the urge to kiss her. And what had been that kiss? He hadn't kissed anyone since his wife, and when he had kissed Lisbon, he had felt the same reactions he would have had as a teenager; those silly symptoms of being in love, like when the heart skips a beat, or the knees seem to fail, or the stomach seems to be filled with butterflies. It had been way too difficult to stop kissing her, to let go of her, once he had let himself start.

He knew now that drinking hadn't been a good idea. If before the drinks he had he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her, now it was even worse, because he had to contain urges to get in his car and drive right back to her apartment. He thus forced himself to drive right back to the hotel, before he could have any other ideas. There, he went straight to his room, changed out of his three-piece suit and laid on his bed. It was early to go to sleep, but he just lay there, trying to empty his mind of all its frantic, contradictory, shouting thoughts inside it.

* * *

Lisbon arrived early at the bullpen the next morning. It had felt weird, back in her apartment, as she was getting ready to go as though this was any other day, when it wasn't. When she arrived, she received her gun and badge back, and then she went to her office. It was a bit messy; her name wasn't written on the door anymore, and her things had been placed inside two boxes in the corner. She started arranging them back in their places immediately. A few minutes later, Jane stopped at the door, and she didn't notice as he stood there for a few more minutes, just watching her.

He had come to the headquarters early, bringing back the things he had taken to the hotel, and, as he arranged them back where they belonged, he thought about how, besides all the difficulties he had already considered, there was something else he had been leaving out; Red John seemed to have the objective of taking away everything he cared about, so, getting any closer to Lisbon should not be an option, if he cared about her safety. And that, in his mind, was a very powerful argument.

It had been silly of him to even consider the possibility of having a normal life at this point. Shouldn't he have understood by now that having the life other people had was something impossible for him? Still, he couldn't forgive himself for the mistake of telling Lisbon about his feelings. She was just as damaged as he was, if not more, and he knew she wasn't trying to push him away because she didn't love him, but rather because dealing with her own feelings was difficult for her. Telling her he loved her and then pretending nothing had happened felt like turning his back on her, because she did have feelings for him, she just wasn't ready yet. She had asked him to go back to before, but he knew that wasn't the right thing to do. Still, that would be what he would do if he cared about her safety. And he did.

So he was inclined to tell her he would do as she had asked him, and leave her alone. As much as that might make him suffer – and her as well, he would do as she wished, not because she wanted to push him away as part of her defense mechanism against the world, but because it really was the safest thing to do, for her own sake. He couldn't afford to have someone else he cared about harmed because of his actions. She was placing her things back to their places, and the image made Jane hope that everything might fall into place for them as well. Still, it was also painful to watch her knowing watching was all he could do. She turned and finally realized his presence.

"Oh," she said, a bit startled.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to scare you. I was just going to… knock." He knocked at the open door, illustratively.

"That's ok," she replied, a little embarrassed.

Jane bit his lip. It _was_ a bit embarrassing. It was like they didn't know their way around each other anymore. He looked for something, anything to say.

"I see you have your badge and gun back on," he commented, looking and pointing at the badge on her belt.

"Yeah," she said, smiling timidly.

He nodded, looking away. He decided it was time to say it, the sooner the better.

"Lisbon," he started. "About yesterday…"

"Let's forget about that," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"No, I mean, I think you're right," he said, approaching her a little. "I think we should forget about it and go back to before. Like it never happened."

She was visibly surprised. In fact, it hurt her a little that he wasn't insisting, that he wasn't trying harder, that he wasn't fighting for her. It hurt her that he was giving up on her so easily. She imagined what could have happened; maybe he had thought about it and figured he didn't really love her, he couldn't really love anybody else after his wife. She realized she had wished he would try to convince her he really did love her, they really did belong together, because no one had really done that before and she had hoped Jane would contradict her theory that nobody was capable of falling in love with her. Much because she would push them away, much because she was a complicated person, much because she didn't have any special qualities that would drive men crazy about her like many women did.

"Good," she said, nodding. "We should do that. I'm glad you feel that way."

He didn't really _feel_ that way, but he nodded back. What else was there to do? He stood there a bit longer, realizing there was nothing left to say. Even though there was a whole lot that should be said. They were just nodding at each other and avoiding looking too deep in each other's eyes. That's when they heard a knock at the door and turned to see who it was; Madeleine Hightower.

"Excuse me," she said, with a serious expression. "I see that you two are back."

"So are you," Jane said, smiling.

Hightower swallowed, looking away.

"I just wanted to say… Welcome back, Lisbon."

She was visibly making a huge effort to say that. Lisbon made an equally huge effort to keep a straight face.

"Thank you, ma'am," she answered, bowing her head.

Hightower turned around and left; Jane and Lisbon waited for her to disappear inside the elevator before they looked at each other and laughed.

"That was… I can't believe what just happened," Lisbon said, as she stopped laughing.

"I believe you owe me a thank you for that," Jane said, still smiling widely.

She scoffed. "Get out of my office," she said, and, as he left, she let her smile fade.

Lisbon waited for all the other three members of the team to arrive before she went to the bullpen to be welcomed back by them. She was received with enthusiasm; the three clapped their hands as they saw her. Jane joined timidly from the couch where he had been sitting and solving sudoku puzzles.

"I knew you'd be back," Rigsby said, while hugging Lisbon.

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Well, this place is not the same without you," Cho answered, instead if his colleague. "It didn't make any sense."

He also hugged Lisbon. Then, Van Pelt wanted to hug her as well.

"And Lindell was really awful," she commented.

"Lindell?" Lisbon asked.

"The guy who substituted you for a few hours yesterday," Cho said.

"And what did he do in these few hours that was so awful?" Lisbon inquired.

"He wasn't you," Jane answered.

He stared at her a bit longer than he had to, and then lay down on his back, regretful that he hadn't been able to resist doing that. But it had been stronger than him; how could she not realize how much people cared about her? He wished she would come out of her shell, make friends, go out with them. Go on with her life. He knew he could help her do that, but then, he _couldn't,_ because that would endanger her life. Why did it have to be so difficult?

Lisbon cleared her throat, not sure of what to make of Jane's comment.

"So, what have you guys been working on?" she asked.


	5. Why?

_**Here goes another chapter. I don't know how many there will be, these two just have so many things to solve. Thank you guys so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting! Keep sending me feedback, it makes my day! **_

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5. WHY?

Near lunchtime, the phone had rung with a new case, which took the team to a small town not very far from Sacramento. All they knew was that a young woman had been killed. They spoke to her family and friends and to suspects, and the whole day Lisbon was avoiding Jane, having him tag along with someone else. At night, back at the CBI headquarters, he wanted to complain about that to her, but figured he'd better not do so. Hadn't he told her he agreed to go back to what they were before? Maybe she needed some time to become natural around him again, and maybe he could use some time, too. He just wished things could be normal already. Even though it would be just pretend on his part.

Lisbon had been making sure to stay away from Jane the whole day, because she still didn't know how to treat him after what had happened. It didn't matter how much she tried to forget and act like nothing was different, she couldn't. When they got back to the headquarters, she saw him make himself a cup of tea and then go straight to the attic. Noticing he was gone, away from where she could see him, caused an unexpected effect on her; she suddenly felt sad, and lonelier than ever, especially because she couldn't stop thinking about how easily he had given up on her, after having told her he loved her. She wanted to know why he had done so, and, in an impulse, she decided to go ask him.

She knocked on the attic door and waited.

"Who's that?" she heard him ask.

"It's Lisbon."

She heard his steps, then the door opened. He was no longer wearing his suit jacket and vest, just his pants and shirt.

"What happened?" he asked, a bit alarmed.

"Nothing happened, I just wanted to talk to you."

"Oh," he said, visibly surprised. "Come in, then."

He gestured, inviting her in, and she entered, a bit embarrassed.

"Where do you shower?" she suddenly asked, observing his abode of sorts and imagining his routine living here.

He chuckled before answering. "Locker room, downstairs."

There was a moment of silence. He was waiting for her to speak.

"Well…" she started, trying to find a way to say it. "I wanted to ask you… Why did you decide I was right, that we should ignore what happened?"

Jane was beyond surprised; he wasn't expecting any questions like that one at all. It took him a while to formulate the answer.

"There are several reasons…" he answered finally. "Why do you ask?"

Now _she_ didn't know what to say; he hadn't answered her question. Maybe he wanted to avoid hurting her. But she wanted the truth, even if it would hurt her.

"I… I just… want to know."

And she looked at him with a pleading expression, one that she was probably unconscious of, Jane thought, but he had no idea of what she was asking for. What did she want to hear?

"I thought you said that was what you wanted," he said, not sure he was answering the question she had asked, not sure he was answering the question _her eyes_ were asking. He approached her. "What exactly are you asking?"

"You're answering my questions with other questions," she pointed out.

"I want to know what your real question is, so I can give you the real answer," he explained.

Lisbon sighed. What was her real question? She didn't really know. Or she didn't _want_ to know, or admit. She was suddenly too embarrassed to look at him, and she considered running away. She felt so ridiculous right now.

He laid his hands on her shoulders.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

She had started crying quietly, looking down. Until the words came into her mind and she decided to look up at him and say them.

"I want to know why you gave up so easily."

Jane suddenly understood everything. She had read more than she should have into the fact that he had agreed to forget what had happened. She was so silly sometimes. He would have smiled, if that wasn't sad. He didn't answer her question. The tears kept coming slowly down her cheeks.

"I want to know why everyone gives up so easily," she said, now looking up at him. "Why nobody ever fights for me. Why they say they love me and then they just leave me."

He had indeed imagined it wasn't the first time that had happened.

"You're aware that you _ask_ them to leave you, aren't you?" he asked, sarcastically, letting go of her shoulders.

She didn't answer; she just glared at him, wiping the tears off her face. Was he mocking her?

"How is anybody supposed to guess you mean the opposite?" He seemed mad himself now.

"It's not about guessing," she said, raising her voice, "it's about fighting for what you want, for who you love."

"Well what if these horrible men who left you figured it was a lost battle?" he asked mockingly, raising his voice as well. "Have you considered that?"

She didn't answer; she was busy fighting tears. Jane took a step towards her.

"And tell me, Lisbon, how many times have _you_ fought for these people you claim you loved?"

She looked down, unable to stop herself from crying any longer.

"Or did you just tell them, over and over, to leave? Making it clear you were better off alone?"

She cried harder, and it seemed for her like that was what he wanted; to hear her cry louder. She felt his hands on her shoulders again. He shook her lightly.

"Why do you do it?" he asked, with some exasperation in his voice.

It took her a while to calm down enough to speak.

"I don't do that because I want to," she said, looking away.

"Then why?"

She just stared at him. It wasn't her fault; she didn't push people away because she liked it.

"But you have to know," he went on, "that I didn't do what you asked _because_ you asked. I knew you didn't mean it."

"Then why?" it was her turn to ask, her tears practically under control now.

He let go of her again, and took a step away from her.

"As you know, I'm complicated and damaged too."

Lisbon didn't reply; she wanted him to explain it further. She wanted to hear the part when he had realized he didn't really love her. She wasn't crying anymore, so she wiped the tears off her face once again.

"And as you also know, anybody I care about ends up harmed sooner or later."

Lisbon shook her head.

"Those are excuses."

He smiled. "Oh are they?"

"Yes, excuses," she said, raising a finger accusatively. "You don't want to tell me the real reason."

He cocked his head to the side, incredulously.

"And what is the real reason?"

"You realized you don't actually love me," she said, with her head tilted up, showing him his chin, typical threatening Lisbon behavior, he thought.

"You've got it all figured out, don't you?" he asked.

Then Jane felt that same impulse he had felt the day before; he wanted to pin her against a wall again and show her just how wrong she was. But he struggled to contain that impulse.

"You figured out you just wanted me here because you know how to get what you want from me. You didn't want your routine to change. It was comfortable for you with me here."

He walked towards her, slowly.

"Is that what you tell yourself? Every time you blow someone who loves you away? You make up stories about how they don't love you? So they are the bad guys, they have hurt you, and you haven't hurt them?"

"Maybe you believed for a while that you might be in love with me. Because you really didn't want me to go. But then you realized it's not love. You'll never love anybody like you loved _her_."

That was too much. Jane seized her by her arms and pulled her against his chest. How could she accuse him of not loving her like he had loved his wife? When the guilt he felt for doing so was killing him?

"You know so much about _my_ feelings, don't you?" he asked, between clenched teeth. "What about _your_ feelings? Why don't you talk about them?"

She didn't answer, but she didn't struggle to get out of his grip either. Their faces were only inches from each other now, and Jane looked so intently into her eyes and held her arms so tightly that she couldn't help but feel a bit scared.

"I remember it very well," he said. "You only decided to stay in Sacramento when I told you I wanted to act on my feelings for you. Do you remember that?"

She remembered. Of course she did.

"No, I don't."

He pulled her even closer.

"How dare you lie to me? To _me_?"

She didn't answer.

"I want you to tell me the truth, right now."

"What truth? What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

Jane felt his body shaking with anger. How could she be such a hypocrite? How could she accuse him of not loving her after he had so wholeheartedly confessed, while she refused to confess that she loved him back? He wanted her out of her shell and he wanted her out now.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked challengingly.

"I want you to tell me why you stayed. Why you didn't go to San Francisco."

She stared at him in silence, not knowing what to do.

"Stop hiding!" he demanded, raising his voice.

Her chin started to tremble and tears started rolling down again, even though she pressed her lips together to try and contain them. She avoided his eyes, looking at his chest instead, where she had her hands clutching at his shirt.

"Why did you come up here?" he asked, in a softer voice. "Why did you want to know why I had given up? Is it you trying to fight for me?"

Tears were more abundant now, and Lisbon nodded, in defeat.

"I don't want you to give up on me," she said. "I love you, you bastard."

She had said it. All the anger he felt seemed to vanish in the air. She had come out of there and said she loved him. It made him suddenly want desperately to have a normal life beside her. Which only hurt much more, because he knew he couldn't. Her sobbing also hurt him, and he threw his arms around her, letting her cuddle against his chest. She seemed so fragile right now. It was clear that nobody else had been able to understand the kind of pain she had been through and that it was what made her act the way she did. Maybe he understood because he had endured likewise pain. Now how could he leave her? How could he deny her what she was begging him? Not to give up on her. He was sure it was the first time she was asking someone to do that, to insist on helping her, even when she swore she didn't need help. How could he not oblige?

Lisbon wished she could forever hide in his embrace. Right now, all she needed to know was that he had fought for her, he had shown her he cared about how she felt. That still didn't answer all her questions and didn't solve all her problems, but she was glad he had demanded to know how she felt, because it had made her tell him. And after all, it felt better to have said it. She didn't know how she would feel later, but right now, she felt better.

"I won't give up," Jane finally said. "But just as long as you promise you won't give up either."

Why did it always have to be so difficult for them? Why did it always have to be a matter of something that _had_ to be done but _couldn't_ be done? All Jane knew was that he couldn't turn his back on her now. But she would have to try not to push him away.

"I promise," he heard her faint voice, and it made him smile through all that pain and confusion in his damaged heart.

He squeezed her tight, and placed a kiss on the top of her head.


	6. Same

_**I personally like this chapter, but I must confess I'm having problems writing this fic. I'm having too much difficulty with**__** the next chapter after this one, and I was just thinking how it could be the last just as well as there could be five more after it. So just bear with me for now, please let me know what you think so far, and if you will, tell me about any expectations you have for the future of this story, maybe it'll help me finish this story the way I should. **_

_**Thank you so much to everyone who reads and likes this story. If it wasn't for you, I might have given up!**_

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6. SAME

Jane was running his hand through Lisbon's hair, while his other hand rested firmly on her back, holding her close. She rested on his chest, a hand beside her face and the other around his waist, no longer crying, her breathing even. They had stood like that, in silence, for a long time, until Lisbon slowly pulled away. Her face looked swollen from having cried. He cupped her face with his hand.

"You look like a little girl right now," he commented.

She smiled lightly against his hand.

"I don't like you sleeping here," she said, looking up at him. "I'm worried about you here, I keep thinking about it at night."

"Do you?" Jane smiled.

"Yes, I do," she responded, not returning the smile.

He slid his hand down to her neck, drawing small circles with the tip of his fingers, then back up to her face again, stroking her jaw line with his index finger.

"You tell me I'm hiding, well, so are you," she said. "You're hiding in here, you have your clothes here, a bed, you shower in the locker room…"

Jane's expression turned very serious, and he directed his look to where his fingers were carefully placing strands of her hair behind her ear. It didn't seem like he was going to answer. Lisbon took his hand, making him shift his focus to her eyes.

"I have just promised not to give up on you. So I won't."

He softly removed his hand from hers and took a step back,

"We were referring to giving up on _you_, and I meant for you to promise not to give up on _yourself_."

"Don't try to make it into a word puzzle."

"But I'm serious."

"So am I," Lisbon retorted, taking a step towards him.

"Lisbon…" he started, then paused. Then spoke again. "My situation is different…"

"Not really, I don't think it is."

"We were talking about you. Let's continue talking about you."

Lisbon scoffed. "We've already talked a lot about me."

"But we could go on forever," he smiled crookedly, then let it fade. "Like for example the fact that lie to yourself that you're strong all the time, when in fact you're only in your comfort zone and you never get out of it, and you never face your fears. That's a very coward way to live."

"What about you?" she had her arms wide open in an incredulous gesture. "You do the same thing! You hide in here, like you don't even have a life anymore. I live in a coward way? You don't live at all."

"Our situation is different."

"We're the same!"

"You do what you do because of what happened to your parents."

"And you do what _you_ do because of what happened to your family."

"But you're not to blame for what happened to them."

"Yeah, because you _are_ to blame for the death of your wife and child."

"I am," he affirmed, in an aggravated tone.

"No, you're not, here, listen to me." She approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do you trust me? Do you believe in me?"

He paused, looking deep into her eyes. "Of course I do."

"Then trust me and believe in me when I tell you that you're not to blame for the fact that a psychopath has killed your wife and your daughter." At this point, he was trying to get away from her, but she seized his other shoulder and held on to him tightly. "Do you want to hear the only way in which you'd be to blame for their deaths? If you had taken the knife and stabbed your wife and your child."

He was now crying, like he had given up trying to contain it. He sobbed, like Lisbon had never seen. She pulled his head into her shoulder and held him tight against her. She realized she was crying, too.

"We're the same," she repeated.

He didn't answer, or move, he just kept sobbing.

The truth was he _wanted_ to believe her. He hadn't stabbed his wife and child, and if he had known there was a way to prevent that from happening, he would have done anything, given anything. But still, he couldn't avoid feeling that guilt, because his actions had ultimately been the reason why Red John had decided to kill his family. He wanted to believe that he hadn't brought that tragedy on himself, but it wasn't easy at all, because everything seemed to tell him he _was_ to blame.

After several minutes, he started calming down, gradually. When all Lisbon could hear was his troubled breathing, struggling to become even, she pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"Let's get out of here," she said, imperatively, holding out her hand.

Jane just took it and followed her out of the attic.

* * *

There was no discussion about where they were going. In fact, the only time they spoke while Lisbon drove was when she pointed out they should buy something to eat, which they did, and then she drove straight to her apartment. During the drive, Jane tried to think everything through; he was very confused. That morning he had decided he was going to try to forget and fight his feelings for Lisbon. Now, he was sitting next to her in her car, going home with her. How had that happened? And what about all the reasons he had thought about which made it impossible for him to actually have some kind of relationship with her outside their professional environment?

In Lisbon's mind, it was very simple; she had admitted to herself and to Jane that she loved him, so she no longer felt obliged to hide her concerns about him. Every night she would wonder if he was okay alone in that attic, and knowing he really wasn't troubled her sleep. So, independently of what was going to happen or not between them in the future, it had been established that they cared about each other, and she felt it was not only her right but also her duty to act on her worries about the way he was living his life, just like he had acted on his worries about her.

There was much silence as they entered the apartment, went to the kitchen, and started eating the dinner they had bought, even though they did exchange meaningful looks throughout that process. At a certain moment, Jane spoke.

"This is…" he didn't finish his sentence.

"Awkward and sudden and weird?" Lisbon asked, not embarrassed at all, and Jane smiled at the fact that she had taken the lead from him. "I know," she went on, "and I agree."

Another moment of silence went by, until she spoke again.

"Well, we're still friends, aren't we? No matter what happens, we're still friends."

She was affirming more than asking. Jane smiled with a hint of sadness.

"You know, Lisbon… All these years, you've been the closest thing I've had to a friend. My best friend, if you will."

The confession made her smile, now with a bit of embarrassment. After another bite, which she chewed in silence and looking down, she spoke objectively again.

"So we're friends, and we care about each other. You said you wanted me to stop hiding? Well I want you to stop hiding too. You help me, I help you."

Jane smiled at how simple she had just made it all sound.

"We could try that," he agreed, albeit hesitantly.

He was avoiding his own mind, who would tell him all the reasons why they shouldn't try that. At that moment, he didn't want to listen.

After dinner, they moved to her couch.

"So, every night you sit here and what do you do? You watch TV?" Jane asked, curiously.

"Mostly. Sometimes a DVD. Sometimes I read a book."

Jane nodded, distractedly. There was something so sweet about sitting next to her on her couch after a meal, in front of the TV, something routine-like, something like a normal, ordinary, satisfying life. He admired her profile as she stared at the screen, her big green eyes, her delicate nose and mouth, how small her face and her whole body looked. He slowly put his arm around her shoulders, making her glance quickly at him and then back at the TV, smiling softly. A few minutes later, she laid her head on his shoulder, and he felt her muscles relaxing against him. The sweet scent of her hair came into his nose as he took a deep breath, admiring how good and happy it felt to have somebody to lay their head on his shoulder at night, after a busy day at work.

"You know," she started saying, and Jane felt the vibration of her voice against his chest, "it's like when you have, for example, a pain in your leg, and you decide not to ever walk again just so you'll keep it from hurting even more. And then neither does your leg stop hurting, but you've also never taken another step again in your life."

He knew what she was talking about.

"And it's just so much easier to just be alone," she went on. "Going out and pretending that it's easy for you to be around other people and meeting new people and looking for someone, it's all just… just so much trouble. So much pretending, pretending like that's fine and easy and like you're having fun and you're used to doing that. And then you get home and you're just so thankful you're finally alone."

"That's why I never go out," he said. "Not with that kind of purpose in mind anyway."

"It's just like the leg thing. You think you should really walk, because everyone walks, and it's just silly to give up walking. But then you get up and you make such an effort and take a damn walk and then it's not worth it, and then you decide walking is useless and you give up all over again."

Jane nodded. That was a really good metaphor.

"It's a good thing I understand it and we can just sit here," he commented, giving her a small squeeze in the shoulder. "No walking required."

"And yet we're not alone," she pointed out. "And yet, it feels good."

He smiled. "It does indeed."

A few minutes went by in silence, before Jane spoke, remembering something she had said.

"Lisbon… You said something before and I never had the chance to correct you. You were saying I don't really love you, that I've realized I can never love anybody else like I loved my wife."

Lisbon didn't react; she just waited for the "correction".

"You know… We got married because we were in love, and we'd been in love since we were teenagers. Then we had a beautiful baby girl, everything was perfect. Maybe if things had been different and she was still alive, we'd have had problems, we'd have fought, we'd have cheated on each other… But none of that happened, so there are no bad memories, only good ones. So my love for her will always be the idealized image of what our life was like when she died, how perfect it was. And how my actions made it end the way it did."

Jane noticed Lisbon's muscles becoming tense against him.

"And I really didn't believe I would ever be capable of loving anyone else again. Especially considering how screwed up I am and my life is and the job we do is, with death every single day, and the fact that my only hope and goal is to find the man who murdered my family."

Lisbon considered pulling away; she didn't know what was coming out of that explanation, and she was afraid it was something disappointing.

"And despite all of this, I still fell in love with you." He smiled as he felt her starting to slowly relax again. "And if love can grow under these circumstances, and among so much hatred and pain, well, then I guess it has to be some really big and strong kind of love."

Lisbon smiled and held him tighter. She couldn't explain the feeling inside her at that point; it was something so good that she was afraid of it. He spoke again.

"So… I need you to know that any hesitations I might have about a relationship between us, none of the reasons involve not loving you enough. Can you believe that?"

She tilted her head up enough to look into his eyes.

"I guess I can," she answered, smiling, before tucking her head under his chin again.


	7. The Choice

_**I must say thank you to the people who gave me advice and support**__** (reviewing, alerting, favoriting, reading) for continuing this fic when I felt like there was nowhere else to go with it. I am pretty sure that after this chapter there will be just one more. But things can always change…**_

_**I hope you enjoy this, please R&R!**_

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7. THE CHOICE

It didn't take very long for Lisbon to fall asleep in Jane's arms after they stopped talking and concentrated on the TV show in front of them. He enjoyed sitting there with his arms around her for a while, as his mind traveled far trying to think about everything they had said to each other during these two days, so many things they had never said or demonstrated in the years they had been working together.

In those less than forty eight hours, as well as in the previous week, he had confronted feelings and emotions he didn't consider himself capable of even having anymore. It felt good to have told Lisbon how he felt about her and to have heard her say she felt the same. It felt good to have her in his arms now, knowing they loved each other. It made him want to have hope again, it made him want to feel happiness again, it made him feel something good in his heart that he hadn't felt since before the tragedy that had destroyed his life. Still, he was worried about the danger her life could be in if he started a relationship with her. And he was afraid he might hurt her when it came to meeting Red John face to face.

His mind kept going in this never ending loop, until he decided it was late enough for her to be sleeping half-sitting, half-lying against him, curled up on the couch, so he tried to stand up as quietly as he could and took her in his arms. She felt really light, so he easily climbed the stairs with her, even though he knew he wasn't a very well trained person in physical terms. He arrived in her bedroom, and slowly and carefully laid her on her bed. He hesitated, though, realizing she was still wearing the clothes she had worn to work. He was thinking about whether to try to remove her clothes or wake her up when she spoke, in a sleepy voice.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

He smiled, a little surprised, crouching next to the bed to take a better look at her face.

"Were you awake the whole time or you woke up along the way?"

"Along the way," she answered, smiling. "You know, when I was little, I would pretend I was sleeping just so my dad would carry me to my bed."

A hint of sadness appeared in his smile.

"My daughter would do the same thing. I would merrily carry her, pretending I really thought she was asleep."

He looked down, and Lisbon reached for his hand, holding it tight in hers. They didn't speak for a while, and then Jane spoke first.

"Where do you keep your pajamas?" he was smiling lightly.

She sat up and indicated where; he took one of her sporty jerseys and brought it to her.

"And where can I find some sheets and a pillow?"

Lisbon stared for a while. "What for?"

"For me."

"Why, where are you planning on sleeping?"

Jane shrugged. "Couch?"

"Don't be silly, you'll sleep here," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'll go change and I'll be right back. You can find some T-shirts and sweatpants in that drawer that might fit you, they're really loose for me."

And she went to the bathroom, leaving no room for him to object. Not that he would… would he? She was really leading the whole thing right now, wasn't she? He found himself kind of enjoying the fact. She came back a minute later, and he still hadn't looked for the clothes she had mentioned.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I just got distracted… with your sudden… leadership."

She smiled. She wasn't really thinking about any of it; now it just felt natural for her. However, as he sort of forced her to think about it, she realized it had been the fact that she wasn't _thinking_ that had her feeling so secure and confident at that moment. She had been letting her feelings talk, and act; if she were to start really thinking about it, she might start to shake, and stutter, and sweat. So she gave up thinking. She shrugged and went to that drawer, where she found pants and a T-shirt he could wear. When she stood up again, he was right behind her.

"Here, I think these might fit," she said, but instead of a verbal answer, she felt his hands on her waist, turning her around.

The next thing she noticed was the warmth of his breath and the touch of his lips on hers, brushing lightly at first, then moving slowly and demandingly, and she let him deepen the kiss as he pulled her close with both arms around her, making her moan and drop the clothes she held in her hands to hold him tight as well, running her hands through his curls and feeling her whole body tingle at the contact.

And then, suddenly, Jane pushed her away.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I want to be here, but I shouldn't. I mean I want to kiss you, but I can't."

"Why? What are you talking about?"

"I've got to go."

"No. Please… Stay. Please, don't leave."

She was begging, and that broke his heart.

"I can't. This is wrong. All I've been doing is wrong, and I'm sorry."

He just turned around and left her standing there, and it took her a while to realize what had happened. When she heard the door closing downstairs, she started sobbing. She didn't know what to think, and, honestly, she didn't want to think. She didn't even know if she could, because she felt such pain right now that it seemed to numb her ability to. She just turned the lights off and went to bed, alone. Lonelier than ever.

Jane absolutely hated himself right now. How had he let things go so far? He had just turned his brain off, like there would be no consequences, when in fact he had been simply ignoring them. What was wrong with him that he simply couldn't decide what to do? He was stuck between two alternatives, and couldn't choose, so he just kept stumbling from one to the other without ever really walking either of the two paths. And doing that was worse than choosing, but he simply couldn't, like he didn't have the courage.

Thinking about the broken-hearted Lisbon he had just left behind made him feel like the most horrible person on earth. Right now, all he wanted was to be able to go back and make himself never say those words, never tell her that he loved her. That had been his worst mistake and the one that had originated all the other mistakes he had made the last couple of days. He had made her trust him to take care of her. He had _promised_ her that. But doing that, he would only be leading her on until the time came when he had to choose between his revenge and his life with her, and he would choose revenge. Or even worse, he would be putting her in danger, making her the most likely target for Red John's next attack.

So, even if he agreed to be with her now, and take care of her, and try his best to make her happy, she would end up hurt anyway. It was a matter of choosing when to hurt her, and, put this way, it seemed like an easy choice. And maybe it was, if he convinced himself there _was_ no choice, he thought, as the cab pulled over and he entered it, asking the driver to drop him off at the CBI headquarters again. That was it: he didn't have to choose. The choice had been already made on its own.

* * *

When Lisbon woke up the next morning, she dreaded the idea of seeing Jane again. All she could think about was how stupid she felt now, after having invited him to share the bed with her and begged for him not to leave. That was what usually happened to her when she let herself accept the possibility of being in love with someone; she would make a fool of herself only to be left behind to suffer. She guessed Patrick Jane was no different after all.

Still, there was a murder to solve, so she had to get up, wash her face, take a shower, get dressed and go out, face the world outside, face the CBI, face Jane. When she arrived at the bullpen, she saw that he was sitting on his couch with a cup of tea. Like nothing had happened. She considered hiding in her office all day so she wouldn't have to talk to him, but there was work to be done and, thankfully, the rest of the team didn't take more than twenty minutes to arrive.

When everybody was there, she went into the bullpen to discuss the next steps in the investigation. While distributing assignments, she realized it would be childish to avoid Jane again like she had done the day before, so she had him come with her to interview witnesses, like they would normally do. Without a word or so much as a nod, he stood up, discarding his cup of tea and walking towards her. He even avoided looking at her, and it was way beyond disturbing. In silence, they walked towards the elevator.

"What the hell is going on?" Rigsby asked Van Pelt and Cho as soon as the boss and the consultant were far enough not to hear them. "They've been acting weird since yesterday."

"Think it might still be about him making her lose her job?" Van Pelt asked, looking puzzled.

"It's something else," Cho said. "If that was the case, he would be trying to please her and apologize, but he's avoiding her."

Lisbon turned her head towards the bullpen while she and Jane shared a horribly awkward silence waiting for the elevator, and noticed that the other three agents were looking at her. When they noticed her, though, they hurriedly turned around and went back to minding their own business. Of course they had noticed something was wrong. They were detectives, for God's sake.

The elevator doors opened and they entered, and they were the only ones inside it. Jane was, and he rarely felt like that, not sure about how to act around her, and the thought that only hours before she had fallen asleep in his arms and his lips had taken over hers didn't really help. He could feel her tense next to him, and he knew that insecurity was telling her horrible things about why exactly he had run away from her the night before. Yet, he knew that there was nothing he could do about it; right now, he would be the worst person to try to convince her of anything.

Anyway, he couldn't be silent forever; he would have to say something at some point. Anything at all.

"So, how are you?" he asked, trying to keep his tone as normal and impersonal as possible.

Lisbon was feeling uncomfortable with all the silence, but when she heard his voice asking how she was as if they were mere co-workers who didn't really care how they were, and she remembered how she had cried herself to sleep after he had left, it made her furious.

"How I am?" she asked back, enraged. Jane seemed a bit startled as she faced him and went on. "Let me make something clear to you: no small talk, no jokes, no pretending that nothing happened! We'll only talk when it's absolutely necessary for professional reasons, is that okay with you?"

As though it had been carefully rehearsed, the elevator doors opened right after she was done speaking, and she turned her back on him, walking out and not waiting for his response to her question. Jane couldn't say he was surprised. In fact, if that hadn't made him feel horrible and ashamed of himself, he would say he felt relieved that she had made silence between them compulsory.


	8. Bad Day

_**Just to contradict myself, this is not the last chapter. **__**I do believe the next on will be, though. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!**_

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8. BAD DAY

Not being able to talk to Lisbon beyond the absolutely necessary for professional purposes made that an absolutely boring day for Jane. Not to mention that she seemed to ignore the existence of lunchtime and bodily needs and didn't even consider stopping for lunch between interviews. But what turned that boring day into an unbearable one was when they were interrogating the victim's brother, a disgusting man named Brian Archer.

Besides not knowing anything relevant to the case, he also seemed enchanted by Lisbon. He looked at her as if she was something incredibly valuable, and then, at times, he would also look at her like he was about to rip her clothes off. All that considered, Jane wanted to get the hell out of there as fast as he could, but Lisbon, who seemed usually so unaware of her charm and of the line of men who would like to make her their princess, seemed not only to have noticed the man's interest in her but to be enjoying it. Unbelievably, they had forgotten all about the case and were talking trivialities. Jane stood in a corner of the living room, completely forgotten.

What he didn't know was that, in fact, Lisbon was paying more attention to him than to Brian Archer; she wasn't really interested in the victim's brother, she was only enjoying an opportunity of showing how easily Jane could miss his chance with her, even if that wasn't true. Actually, she had decided not to play the part of the rejected, broken-hearted fragile little girl that breaks down into his arms because she wishes he won't give up on her. She had decided to do to him what he did best to her; making her each and every day a living hell, just for the pleasure of it. So she went on talking to the guy about nothing in particular for a good fifteen minutes, making use of smiles and eyelash batting as she distractedly ran her fingers through her own hair, very aware of Jane waiting, irritated, in the corner.

Jane was starting to feel nauseated as he watched. He preferred her being sincere and calling him a bastard for making her fall in love with him. No cheap tricks. He considered leaving, waiting for her by the car. Maybe leaving _with_ the car; that would piss her off and interrupt the lovey-dovey scene and make her show that useless jerk her angry side when she screamed at the car as it moved away. The thought almost made him smile, but he couldn't; he was watching her as she gave him her card, saying with words that he could call her "if he remembered anything else" but with body language to simply "call her".

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Archer," she said, walking towards the door, smiling.

"Thank you, Agent Lisbon," he said.

Jane passed by him without a word; he had nothing to thank him for. He followed Lisbon to the car and sat next to her, as she continued to pretend he wasn't even there. Before turning the engine on, she took her cell phone and called Van Pelt, asking her to see if Archer's alibi checked out. About five minutes of driving later, Jane said out loud what he had been thinking.

"He's not even grieving; it seems to him as good a time as any to flirt."

Lisbon had to contain herself not to smile at the comment.

"His alibi will check out, he's not a suspect," she commented, with no emotion in her voice and not saying the last part aloud, _he's just a jerk._

"Why do you say that? You like him, so he can't be a suspect?"

"He has no motive," she said, trying to hide the amount of fun she was having.

"Maybe he has a motive, he just didn't tell you. He probably thought that would decrease his chances of having you, a police officer, in his bed."

The tone he had used to say that was infuriating, but it was also extremely pleasurable to know that he was doing it because he was jealous. Lisbon ignored him, containing the practically irresistible urge to laugh. She had never seen him wanting somebody to be a suspect, somebody he obviously _knew_ was not a killer.

Jane suspected that Lisbon had only flirted with that jackass to experience some sort of revenge for last night, and if that were the case, it had worked, because he really was feeling jealous and extremely irritated. Just the thought of that nobody imagining having her in his arms, kissing her lips, running his hands through her hair and over her body, had him wanting to break something. Instead, though, he fixated on the trees outside the window as they moved past them, wondering if that day could get any worse. Not very long after that, it started to rain heavily, and it seemed to Jane that it was nature telling him just how things could _always_ get worse.

After interviewing the victim's co-workers, during which process Jane treated Lisbon with his fiercest bad manners, still an effect of the Brian Archer experiment, she interpreted, when night was already falling, he demanded that their next stop was somewhere he could have a decent meal.

"If you want to interview anybody else now, you go, take the car, and I'll walk, but I'm not going anywhere else before I have something to eat."

"That's ok, we can go eat, and then we're going home, all right?" she said that with feigned innocence as she seemed to be containing herself not to laugh at his distress, and that didn't make him any happier.

Rain was still very heavy and it was already dark when they stopped at a diner and ordered food. Only then did Lisbon realize how hungry she also felt. The two of them only sat at the same table because it would be childish to sit at different tables, but the way they were avoiding to look at each other and pretending they were actually alone revealed how much they wished they had sat separately.

After having enjoyed Jane's irritated jealousy, Lisbon was now back to being mad at him too. What right did he have to be jealous anyway? Were they together? Were they going to be? He had left her alone the night before, despite her begging him not to. So no, he had no right. And besides, the fact that she'd had her fun irritating him the whole day did not solve their problems. They were still two troubled people who had to deal with the fact that they had told each other they were in love, whether they would be together after that or not. She had thought she had finally found the only person in the world who could see what was really going on inside her, understand it, and still love her, but of course it couldn't be easy; he was beyond damaged, too. The night before, however, she had seen the possibility that they might help each other out and find a way through all this. Why couldn't he have seen it too?

Jane couldn't even process what he was feeling at that moment. He couldn't remember another time in which he had been so mad at Lisbon, even though he knew he wasn't mad only at her. After the decision he had made the night before – which hadn't even been a matter of choice on his part –, he figured it was time to face the consequences; for one, Lisbon would have one more reason to hate him, because he hadn't kept his promise. But besides that, there was also the frustration of not being able to be with her, against his innermost wishes. He guessed all of that was blowing up in his face at the same time, and the result was this rage.

As they ate, completely ignoring, or pretending to ignore, each other's presence, the sound of the rain seemed even louder coming from outside. There were even some spots where the rain was making its way _inside_ the diner. Then, after some time, the lights went out due to a power outage. Typical. Jane was cursing again his earlier thoughts about that day getting worse. Before they had finished their meal, a man came into the diner and announced that the traffic outside the town was interrupted.

"But we have to go back to Sacramento," Lisbon stood up, concerned.

"Not a chance, ma'am. You're going to have to find a motel to spend the night. And soon, because a lot of people will have to do the same."

Instinctively, she exchanged a look with Jane, who looked just as clueless as what to do. Out of options, and without actually saying anything, they left the diner and drove to the nearest motel; there was a huge amount of mud on the road, making it dangerous to drive very far. Just walking – or rather running – from the car to the motel reception already had them drenched. Lisbon was breathless when she requested the keys for two rooms.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, there's only one left," the man behind the counter answered, grudgingly.

Lisbon sighed.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"I suggest you two share the room," the man said.

"You don't understand, sir, we can't, we work together and it's against regulations…"

"We'll take the room," Jane said, quite rudely, taking the key from the man's hand and Lisbon's arm with his other hand.

He was concerned about sharing a room with her because of the decision he had made last night, because it would be so hard to keep it, and because at the same time he was furious at her and wanted to be as far away from her as possible and she says they can't share a room because of CBI regulations? He just had no patience for that anymore.

"Hey!" she complained, as he pulled her forcefully by her arm, like a spoiled child, towards the room. "Let me go!"

"There's no other room, there's no other motel, there's no going back to Sacramento!" he said, stopping suddenly and raising his voice. "So will you settle down?"

He continued pulling her, and his grip was already hurting her arm. He only let go of her when they were inside the room and he had slammed the door shut.

"What the hell, Jane?" she asked. "What was that for?"

"Oh so now we're talking again? Is this conversation absolutely and professionally necessary?"

Lisbon scoffed. "You're mad at me, _you're_ mad at me?"

"Yes, I am," he answered, visibly enraged. "Wasn't that your intention?"

"Explain to me why that would be my intention!"

She was playing innocent again. Jane felt like he could shoot something right now.

"You know what I think?" she said, with a calm voice. "I think you're so mad because you're jealous."

Her grinning at him made him so mad that he wanted to break the nightstand lamp. Instead, he yelled at her.

"Jealous of what? The little stunt you pulled back there? I'm sorry, my dear, but your plan didn't work!"

She was still smiling as she approached him slowly, her chin lifted up challengingly, and spoke, in a low, controlled voice.

"If it didn't work then why are you yelling?"

Being the one losing control as an effect of her little games made him insane. And yet, even though he knew she had done it all on purpose and he had only been falling into her traps all day, he couldn't help it. He grabbed her by her arms and threw her against the bed. It was like watching from outside his body, even though he was very conscious of how much he had wanted and still wanted to do that now; he crawled on top of her and kissed her forcefully on the mouth. He held her chin, that challenging chin, as he deepened the kiss, his other hand hurriedly undoing her shirt. The silly thought that wet clothes should be removed as soon as possible crossed his mind, but he was pretty sure that was not the reason why he was ripping hers open.

Jane was now kissing Lisbon's neck, and she wanted to push him away, tell him he couldn't have her easily like that, just because he suddenly wanted to, but the pressure of his teeth against her skin made it impossible for her to even consider resisting. His hand came creeping up from her stomach to her breasts, squeezing as he kissed her mouth again, now a little more softly, his other hand removing hair from her wet face. She threw her arms around him, in surrender, and he mumbled something against her lips.

"Yes, I was jealous," was what he said. "Don't ever do that again."

She wanted to answer, but he was kissing her so passionately now, his tongue moving hungrily against hers, that she forgot what she wanted to say in the first place. They switched places so she was now the one straddling him and undoing the buttons of his clothes. He seized the opportunity to remove her shirt, which he had only been able to open, and her bra, and then pulled her against his bare chest, the water making them adhere to each other. She took his earlobe with her teeth and sucked gently, making him groan against her ear. Then he mumbled again.

"You're mine. You're mine."

It was clear to him like never before how much he wanted her all for himself, and how much he wanted her to know that. So he flipped her over and took charge again, making sure to leave the tracks of his lips, tongue, teeth and fingernails on every inch they touched, and taking her sounds of delight as trophies for his accomplishments. When neither of them could wait any longer, he found a soft spot on her neck to rest his lips as they moved together in perfect sync, slowly at first but in an increasing rhythm, until the waves of pleasure became all in one in that unbearable yet wonderful moment, followed by the most soothing relaxation, and Jane found her lips for a tired and contented kiss as he pulled her close to him to rest on his chest, both of them still trying unhurriedly to catch their breaths.

Lisbon cuddled to him, wishing that peace in his arms would last forever, or that, at least, he wouldn't find any reasons for leaving her ever again. She knew, on her part, that she didn't intend to leave him. As for Jane, if somebody had told him at that moment about how angry he had been just before, he wouldn't have believed it; he couldn't even remember the reasons why he had been so mad in the first place, or even how awful he had been judging that day to have been. He even found himself thanking the rain for falling down, as he held Lisbon tight in his arms with the first genuinely happy smile he could remember having smiled in a long time on his face.


	9. Balance

_**Okay, so the wait was long, and I sincerely apologize – and let's not waste time with the reasons –, but at least you get a final chapter AND an epilogue. Yay!**_

_**So, this is the end. I would like to say thank you to **__**everyone**__** who has read and enjoyed this story, as well as say a special thanks to Madam Spooky for helping me decide whether to publish the epilogue or not and to LittleMender for the philosophical discussions about Lisbon, Jane, and Lisbon&Jane, always so clarifying.**_

_**I hope you enjoy the ending, please let me know what you think. :)**_

_**

* * *

**_

9. BALANCE

After opening his eyes, it took Jane a while to realize where he was and why. Actually, opening his eyes didn't really help much, because the amount of sunlight coming from the window was blinding him. What helped his memory was Lisbon's scent, bringing back details about the night before. He felt his lips involuntarily forming a smile. But then he noticed she was _not_ in his arms anymore. How had she woken up so early, anyway? He turned around and looked for his cell phone on the nightstand – except it wasn't there, of course.

He sat up, squinting at the sunlight while looking for his vest on the floor; it wasn't there. His clothes were stretched on a chair near the window, probably left there with the objective of drying. He stood up and walked slowly in their direction. He searched his vest's pockets and found his cell phone. He checked the time: 9AM.

"What?" he said to himself.

Had he really slept until that hour without waking up not even once, during the whole night? He noticed Lisbon's clothes also drying nearby, and their overnight bags on the floor. She had probably taken a shower and gotten dressed. He decided he would do the same before he called her. As he was in the shower, though, he thought he should have called her first. He hadn't even checked if the car was still outside; well, she wouldn't leave her clothes and bag behind, would she? Well, maybe, if she judged the night before had been too big a mistake. He thought about how she had a right to walk away if she wanted. He had done it first.

Still, even though he wouldn't blame her, he found himself almost panicking at the possibility that she might have left. It made him mad; when had he ever been in such sloppy control over his feelings? He hurried with the rest of his shower and decided to try to call her before getting dressed. It went directly to voicemail. He tried again, unsuccessfully. He looked out the window: no sign of the car. He felt his heart beating faster. Had she really left him there? He got dressed in a hurry with the clothes in his overnight bag, then left the room, walking fast on his way to the reception of the motel.

"Did you see Agent Lisbon?" he asked the same man from the night before, without as much as good morning first. "The woman I arrived with last night."

He noticed the urgency in his own voice. Unwillingly, the man answered.

"She said to tell you she's having breakfast at the diner."

Jane sighed in relief. He thanked the man and walked out of the motel, with his suit jacket in his hand. He saw the car; she had only moved it from where she had left it the night before, probably to make it possible for another car to leave or something. He couldn't believe what a sunny day it was, after so much rain, still evident in the mud that covered everywhere around him. He kept walking, on his way to the diner, which seemed much nearer without the dark and the rain.

As he entered, he quickly recognized her, sitting at a table in the corner, looking outside the window. His heart fluttered at the sight of her, who only noticed him as he approached the table. They smiled lightly at each other. She was having eggs and, of course, coffee. Her eyes looked greener than ever. _She_ looked more beautiful than ever. He sat down, finding it difficult to concentrate on what to order when the waitress approached him.

Lisbon had woken up really early that morning, feeling comfortable in Jane's arms, but confused at the same time. The previous night, before she had given in, she had wanted to stop it, she had thought it wasn't right, after Jane had walked away on her, to just sleep with him the next day, at the first opportunity, just because now he was willing to spend the night with her when he hadn't been the night before that one. With that uncertainty nagging at her, she had then slipped out of his embrace, taken a shower and left the room, while he slept like a baby. She couldn't help but feel something good and warm inside her chest at the sight of his serene expression as he held his arms exactly where they had been holding her not a half hour before.

Still, she had felt like she had to get out of there and do some thinking on her own. She had said good morning to the man behind the counter on her way out, wondering if the man ever slept or if he just spent all nights sitting there. She had then headed for the car, got in it and just gone for a drive. She had noticed it was surprisingly sunny outside. Lisbon had driven for about twenty minutes, trying to sort things out inside her head. The first thing she had figured out was that having stopped Jane would have been stupid and childish. Wasn't being with him what she wanted, after all? They had both been through so much, and, one way or another, they had confessed to having feelings for each other. There were so many issues that could keep them from being together, why should she have been held back because of pride?

After admitting as much, she had let her mind go back to the night before and remember details about how good it had actually felt. While in Jane's arms, she had felt right, like she belonged there, with him. She had felt loved, wanted and protected, and it had made her feel that this is what anyone was supposed to feel like, and that it was actually better to have someone than being alone, like she had always told herself in order to avoid heartache. She had then finished the circle she had been driving in, and parked the car outside of the motel again, suddenly aware of complaints coming from her stomach. She had gone in and spoken to the man at the reception; she had asked him if Jane had left his room, to which the man had answered that he didn't think so, but that his job was not to mind anybody's business. Lisbon had then thanked him anyway and asked him please to tell Jane, if he happened to see him, that she was having breakfast at the diner.

She had then walked out, still losing herself in her toughts, on her way to the diner, where she had chosen a table in the corner, where she could just look out the window while she waited for her food and thought some more; not very long after her food had arrived, though, she saw Jane approaching her table, smiling quietly at her, before taking the seat in front of her. They shared such a worm and loving look that she felt her heart skip a beat while all doubts she might have had seemed to dissolve.

"You overslept?" she asked, with a teasing smile, after the waitress who had been taking his order left.

"I did," he answered, with a wide smile. "I had almost forgotten what it felt like to oversleep. Or to sleep a whole night, for that matter."

Lisbon wasn't sure she was supposed to feel proud, but she did. She bit her lip before taking another bite at her food. Jane just watched.

"Well played," he said, mostly thinking aloud, but he noticed he really craved to see her reaction, which was to look at him with that innocent expression, the same that had driven him so crazy the night before. But she didn't say anything, so he went on. "You've finally realized the power that you have over me and you've made use of it."

She shrugged, wondering where this was going, but confident that she had done nothing wrong.

"I just did to you what you always do to me," she replied truthfully. "I pushed your buttons. Your reaction was completely unexpected, though."

One of the corners of her mouth turned up in a half smile, and Jane couldn't avoid smiling back. They looked at each other like that for a while, then he let his smile fade and spoke again.

"I'm not sure how intentional your actions were; how much you knew I needed a reality check."

This time, Lisbon stared blankly at him; no feigned innocence or surprise, no mischief.

"I didn't think so," he said. "I think you just wanted revenge, really. But even unintentionally, you made me realize how much I can't stay away from you. Contemplating the idea of losing you, again, made me lose control. Again."

Lisbon took a sip of her coffee; she waited for him to finish making his point.

"It was stupid of me to think that I'd be able to walk away, when, in fact, I couldn't. Not after telling you I loved you, not after hearing you say you loved me back. Not after promising not to give up on you. I couldn't have walked away, I'm sorry that I tried."

He seemed to mean that. At that moment, the waitress brought his eggs and his tea. When she left, he spoke once more, smiling.

"So congratulations again on pushing my buttons so skillfully. Rarely do people even realize where my buttons are."

She smiled mischievously.

"Trust me, I've known where they are for a long time." She paused, becoming serious again. "So why exactly _did_ you try to walk away?"

Jane bit his lip. He felt genuinely sorry for having hurt her then.

"I think you know," he said, then smiled teasingly. "If you really know where my buttons are."

Lisbon took a glance at his wedding ring, as the image of a smiley face drawn with blood crossed her mind. She heard Jane sigh, and looked up at him again.

"Why does it have to be so complicated?" he said, looking sadly at her. "Why can't we just have a normal life together?"

She looked into his eyes, and he into hers, and they both realized how much they wished to have a normal life together. She reached over the table and touched his hand.

"I don't know why it's so hard for us, and why the things that happened to us had to happen to us. But still, even if we can't have a normal life, we can still have a life together."

Jane couldn't help but smile. He covered her hand with his other hand. Hers looked so tiny between his.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, thinking back to his hesitations.

"Then keep your promise," she insisted. "Don't give up on me. On us."

"There are worse ways I can hurt you."

"Like what?"

"I fear for your safety," his voice came out barely louder than a whisper. "If Red John suspects how important you are to me, he will target you."

That was something Lisbon couldn't bring herself to be afraid of. She scoffed with disbelief.

"Don't be silly, I can take care of myself."

"Not against him."

"Yes, against him or anyone. I'm a state agent, I'm trained to deal with bad guys like him. I _have_ dealt with bad guys like him. And we are going to catch him soon."

_We_, Jane thought. Red John was his. Did she have that clear in her mind? He had to make sure. Even though he _had _considered leaving the CBI and consequently the case if she didn't get her job back. But he wouldn't have really done it… would he? He had never felt so unsure about this before.

"I don't know what will happen when _I_ find Red John," he said. "What _I _am going to do. What _you _are going to do about it."

He had expected her to start lecturing him again on why Red John should be arrested and tried in a court of law. Instead, she squeezed his hand.

"We'll deal with it when it happens."

He smiled. She made it sound so simple. It made him realize that she would always try to reassure him when he felt insecure, just as much as he would like to reassure _her_ when she felt insecure. He realized it was about balance; they could give each other the support they both needed and couldn't find for themselves, so when she felt weak, he would be the strong one, and the other way around. He also knew that he would have to commit; as much as he wanted her to trust him and listen to him when she didn't know what to do, he would have to trust her and listen to her when he didn't know what to do. This could work, he thought, with a wide smile.

Jane was looking into her eyes, and she knew that he wanted to fold and ignore his concerns. He was squeezing back at her hand as they stared at each other in silence, their meals completely forgotten. She worried about what would happen when they caught Red John, too, but the closer she was to him, the more chances she would have of making him change his mind and give up on his vengeful plans. Maybe, if she could help him find a way to be happy again and fill his heart with good feelings, he would slowly and gradually let go of that hatred. She guessed only time would tell and there was no way of knowing for sure what he would choose to do when the time came; however, as she looked into his eyes and recognized how much she loved him, she figured she would have to give it a try. Even if she might get hurt afterwards.

Lisbon's phone suddenly rang, making both jump. She freed her hand from Jane's and took her phone from her pocket.

"It's Cho," she said, suddenly brought back to the present reality. "What do I tell him?"

Jane smiled. "The truth, of course."

She looked at him with a panicked expression, which only widened his smile more.

"That it was raining and we couldn't leave town and we had to spend the night here."

She smiled and answered the phone, with him observing the whole time. As she talked to Cho, Jane imagined what his future would be like; he no longer had a choice. He was going to stay with her, for as long as it was possible, always having to deal with that impasse; what was he going to do when the time came to face Red John? What would be the consequence to Lisbon and to their relationship? He guessed he would have to deal with it when it happened. For now, he felt, for the first time in a really long time, that he had a right to enjoy the moment a little bit, and the moment was a sunny day, eggs, tea, and the woman he loved. She discussed the case they were currently investigating with Cho for a while and then told him they would be going back to Sacramento soon. When she hung up, Jane smiled.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime."

She smiled, cocking her head to the side.

"Are you inviting me out on a date?"

"I guess I am."

She pretended to think for a while.

"Okay," she said, finally, shrugging.

Always smiling, he played along.

"And is there any chance you might be available tonight?"

She was smart to avoid his eyes as she pretended to think about it again, because he was trying to stare her down, in that way that only he could.

"I think so," she answered.

"Lovely," he said. "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sure," she smiled.

They finally went back to their breakfast, with quiet smiles on their faces. And then, after that, they went back to Sacramento, to their jobs, and to pretending that nothing was going on between them, all the while stealing knowing glances at each other, for the rest of the day, having seven o'clock as the only future plan in their minds.


	10. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Normally, the boss would have noticed their puzzled faces and why they seemed to be talking to each other all the time, but not today; there was something really weird going on. Not only did she seem distracted, but also in a completely different mood, one none of them could have claimed to have seen her in before. And that's why they would try to speculate behind her back all the time. During those conferences, though, Cho was silent; he didn't really give his opinion on what he judged might be happening, at least not until later that afternoon.

"Jane is different, too," Van Pelt said then.

"I think they finally made up," Rigsby said. "I think she's forgiven him for getting her fired."

"Today, even when they fight," Van Pelt added, "they don't really seem mad. They seem to enjoy it."

"They always seem to enjoy it," Rigsby corrected, "but you're right, today they seem to be enjoying it even more."

"They've spent the night together," Cho said, finally breaking his silence.

The other two looked at him with bewildered expressions. Cho contained a smile as he explained how it had rained and cars had not been allowed to leave town and how the boss and the consultant had been ordered to spend the night in a motel. Which, in itself, didn't mean anything, but summing up to their surprisingly different behavior, it could only mean one thing. And Cho had even more to tell.

"I think they're going out tonight. Both keep checking the time on their cell phones every five minutes."

Rigsby and Van Pelt spent the rest of that afternoon collecting data that corroborated Cho's theory, and the three were more than amused as they observed Lisbon rushing to leave the HQs earlier, even leaving a pile of paperwork to be taken care of on the next day. Jane was also nowhere to be seen, probably getting ready in the attic, and the three of them decided to wait for him to come out of there. During the first two hours of waiting, they were still amused, wondering whether he would wear something different than his usual three-piece suit.

But then, when it was already 9 PM, they figured it was taking too long. Rigsby decided to take a peek at the parking lot; Jane's car was no longer there. The son of a bitch had probably noticed they were on to him and decided to trick them, finding a way to leave the building without them noticing! Well, then they had to be right; why else would he want to leave unnoticed? The three wished they knew where the two had gone, so they could take a look and see it with their own eyes. But since they couldn't, they decided to go out for drinks; they had a feeling that day had to be celebrated.

* * *

Lisbon had insisted that they didn't go to a very fancy place; she wanted to wear casual clothes and feel comfortable. So the restaurant Jane had chosen was not overly sophisticated, even though it was very nice and pleasant, with candlelit tables and a small dance floor where a few couples were dancing. The food served was Italian, and Jane chose a very nice wine to accompany. He had picked her up at the agreed time, and he was not surprised to find her ready to go. She looked beautiful in a green blouse and black pants, with black high-heeled pumps and make up a bit different from usual. He had chosen one of his favorite three-piece suits, and she seemed to like the way he looked.

After some argument over who would drive and which car they would take, Jane convinced her to let "the gentleman drive his car", and they finally arrived at the restaurant. The food was delicious, but the conversation was even better. For the first time, they had concentrated in having a sincere yet light conversation, during which they were able to learn more about each other, but with the focus on their brighter sides. Lisbon found out that Jane could be sweet and romantic, dropping his jackass act entirely. As for Jane, he discovered that Lisbon could make a funny joke out of mostly anything when deprived of the weight of her gun and badge.

The only odd thing that Lisbon noticed was that Jane kept checking his cell phone all the time, trying not to let her notice, probably checking the time. She contained an urge to ask him if he was late for his next appointment, telling herself it was probably nothing. Except that, with Jane, it was _never_ nothing. She soon found out what it was, though; when they were done eating dessert, suddenly, a familiar song started playing in the background. As soon as Lisbon recognized it, she looked at him, who smiled widely with feigned surprise.

"I guess we're going to have to dance," he said, simply, standing up and offering his arm to her.

Smiling, she took it and joined him to the dance floor. When they were already holding each other close and moving slowly to the rhythm of _More Than Words_, she spoke softly into his ear.

"That's why you kept checking the time? You had it arranged, didn't you."

"What? What are you talking about?" he said, without a single trace of actual surprise or confusion.

Lisbon grinned.

"You cheat."

It was his turn to chuckle, squeezing her a bit tighter.

"Are you mad?" he asked, not really worried.

"No, I'm not," she answered, too amused to banter.

A few moments went by in silence, as they swirled to the song, holding each other tightly. Jane noticed she had closed her eyes.

"Where is your mind traveling to?" he asked.

"To my apartment, a half hour or so from now," she responded softly, her lips curving gracefully in a wide smile.

Jane smiled too.

"That's where I am as well."

They continued dancing, and the song seemed insufferably endless, even though they were both enjoying the sweet torture of waiting for it to end.


End file.
